An apprentice for the potions master
by hipotamus
Summary: who knew i could sink so low? OK, it's a cliche, i'll admit it...hermione becomes apprentice, snape falls in love with her, they do some stuff which is definatley not legal...heard it all before? maybe not in this perspective.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **I've done it. Yes I'm sorry but it had to be done. I have given in to the biggest cliché in Harry Potter fanficdom. **Brief Summary**: Snape needs apprentice. Hermione becomes apprentice. Apprentice and master fall in love and have lots of sex and babies….welll…kinda. Anyway, sounds familiar? Author cringes and hides face in shame. That said, please read!

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"Excuse-me sir –"

"No."

"But sir –"

"_No_."

"Well that's not fair."

With a sigh, Snape looks up at me from his grading. "_Life_ isn't fair, Miss Granger."

I frown. "You remind me of my mother."

I notice his mouth twitch at the corner before he comments dryly, "Well, I bet she's an attractive woman."

I can't help but chuckle quietly. It seems the slimy git has a sense of humour. "I just want a chance, Professor. It's tradition that each teacher takes on an assistant. I'm a seventh year and I'm more qualified than any other – "

"Silence!" Snape spits at me, rising to his feet. Actually forget the humour…just a slimy git. "Do you _honestly_ think I would take on _you_ as my apprentice? It is tradition for myself that I take on a _Slytherin_ each year. Someone much less interfering and conceited than you."

All right, I'll admit, I can be interfering, but conceited? Since when am I conceited? I make a haughty noise then argue back, "Well tradition also dictates that you take on the most able student in your class, and I'm sure Dumbledore would agree."

Rubbing his face in one hand, Snape puts his quill back down on the desk. "Why, if I may ask Miss Granger, do you wish to be my apprentice? Is it simply to irritate me, because I must say you are doing an admirable job at that already..."

"No," I begin slowly, ignoring his second jibe about my personality and explain: "To be accepted into Salem's After-school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, if I wish to take a course in Healing, I need to have taken a class of Advanced Potions with top grades and to have worked for a year as a Potions Master's apprentice."

"The answer is no," Snape says simply, sitting back down, picking up his quill and returning to grading. I wish he'd stop doing that. It's getting very tiresome.

"Sir, _please_."

Snape looks up. I can see he's slightly shocked that I'm actually pleading with him. And yes, ok, I, Hermione Granger, have resorted to pleading. Desperate times call for desperate measures. He sighs. "And what personal gain will I achieve from this apprenticeship, Miss Granger?"

Smiling slightly, I say, "Well you'll never have to clean out another cauldron again." Obviously he doesn't respond well to jokes and after seeing his stony face, I continue, "I'm to help you do whatever you need me to, and during free periods I come down to the dungeons and help monitor your classes. And as I am, excuse me, slightly more able than any other student, I will be able to brew any potions you need me to." I pause. "It'll make your job a fair bit easier."

Neither of us speaks for a moment, then Snape finally mutters, "I can't believe I'm even considering this."

"You're – you're considering me, sir?"

Snape's cheeks colour slightly and he clears his throat. "Well, it so happens that you're the only student who has asked me."

My insides are twisting and the realisation of what he's saying begins to sink in: he has to accept me. I'll get to be an actual assistant! And sure, maybe a year with Snape won't be fun, but then I'll get to go to Salem's After-school, the best Magical After-school in the world, with the most talented witches and wizards. They have the hugest labs there where all sorts of magical experiments –

"Miss Granger! Will this be a periodic thing? Because if you continue to daydream while I am speaking to you then I am afraid that it will be frankly _dangerous_ for you to become a Potions Master's apprentice."

"Sorry, sir, I just…" I try to think up an excuse but fail miserably. "I won't do it again," I finish lamely.

---

"Excellent, Severus, excellent. Miss Hermione Granger is the best student in her class. I would have been very surprised if you had taken on anyone but the best," Dumbledore says. He then turns to me and smiles warmly. "Although Miss Granger, I think Professor Flitwick will be upset. I rather believe he was hoping to take you on himself."

I smile shyly back at Professor Dumbledore, who claps his hands together. "Right, well Hermione, I will have your things moved down to Severus' rooms and –"

"What?" Snape and I both cut in. Snape's rooms? No…that can't be right.

"Yes, all apprentices have adjoining rooms to their Master. Come now, Severus, you've had an apprentice before. Surely you haven't forgotten. Hermione will have her own room and bathroom connected to your suite. Which means you'll have to move your cauldron collection, Severus."

I look from Professor Snape, who is very red in the face, to Dumbledore, whose eyes are twinkling most merrily. A cauldron collection? I almost want to laugh, but realise that would not be a good idea, considering the circumstances. Then I remember that I will be sharing living quarters with Snape and the mad desire to laugh fades rather quickly.

"Right then, you're things will be moved down and you begin today. I expect you to use your free periods to help Professor Snape. You will of course have free time in the evenings to spend with your peers if Professor Snape does not need you."

I nod, quite speechless, suddenly realising just how much time I'll be spending with Snape this year. Salem's After-school of Witchcraft better be worth this.

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"Do you find your rooms adequate, Miss Granger?" Snape asks, smirking at me over top of his Daily Prophet. I frown. The green sludge covering the bottom five inches of my robes smells and I know my face is red with annoyance: an obvious indicator that in fact, my rooms are not fine.

"The toilet's broken," I tell him. He shakes out the paper and hides his face behind it.

"Yes, I was aware of that."

That sardonic bastard. He let me go in there and flush it knowing that the thing would in fact not flush but spew up its contents, and all over me no less.

"I can call up a _house elf_ to have it fixed," he says and I can hear the mockery in his silky voice as he suggests the use of slave labour.

"No, I – I'll fix it."

"Well, I knew you were quite talented Miss Granger. I did not however know that your skills included Muggle plumbery."

"I don't think 'plumbery' is a word sir," I say and turn my back to him, walking back to my rooms to change. I'll fix that bloody toilet; just to wipe that stupid smirk off of his face…I'll show him.

A few moments later he has entered my room (without knocking I might add), a large dusty book in his arms. He clears his throat and reads, "Plumbery: noun; the occupation of a plumber, installing and repairing pipes and fixtures for water or gas or sewage in a building." He gives me a dry look, snaps the huge dictionary closed and leaves the room, not closing the door behind him.

This is going to be a very long year.

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Please review! Reviews make me happy. Happy authors write quickly. hehe, but seriously, should i keep going with this? coz im not too sure. xxx 


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** shock horror it's an update. sorry guys, but am currently tres busy and i got bored of this story. hopefully i'll update regularly now as i have a few good ideas bouncing around my brain. anyway must be going...all this bouncing is giving me a headache. enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Not mine...yet.

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I have spent the last half an hour trying to clear that bloody toilet. You know what, I give up. I'll just hold it in all year…no need for a bathroom. I sweep my hair out of my hot sweaty face and get up off the floor, snorting angrily through the nose.

With a squeal of frustration I kick the toilet hard. It hurts…a lot. I actually think I may have broken my toe. I let out a howl of pain and hop around on one foot, clutching the other tightly in my hand.

"What are you making all that noise about, Granger?" Snape asks coolly from the doorway, surveying me with a wrinkled nose. I know I look a mess, with my grimy tear-streaked face, red with anger and pain. My hair has also exploded into a frizzy untameable mess, my robes are covered in slime and I smell like a sewer, not surprising as I am covered in sewage.

"I think I've broken my toe," I tell him through clenched teeth.

He raises an eyebrow at me and crosses his arms in a businesslike manner. "I thought you were attempting to _fix _the toilet, Miss Granger," he says surveying the overflowing bowl.

I give him an extremely dirty look and resume my hopping with as much dignity as I can muster….

He lets out a sigh. "Sit down."

I glare at him but obey and sit on the side of the bath, still clutching my foot as he kneels in front of me. I don't like being this close to him. Apart from the creepy factor, I smell like a public toilet so I don't really want _anyone _getting too close.

Snape pries my foot out of my tightly clenched hands and pulls off my slimy-green sock, dropping it on the floor in distaste and wiping his hands on a clean section of my robes…thanks.

With a surprising gentleness, he moves my foot around in a circle and carefully bends each of my toes. "It's not broken Granger," he says, dropping my foot on the ground with a thud: umm, ow!

Pulling his wand out of his robes, I recoil slightly but he doesn't notice, just points his wand at the toilet. "Have you tried the Tergeo spell?"

Well duh, why do you think I'm covered in slime! I open my mouth to give a smart answer but suddenly an idea occurs to me and I close my mouth quickly, shaking my head. He smirks and points his wand at the toilet, while I subtly shield my face from the coming explosion.

"Tergeo," Snape mutters coolly, and although I cannot see him, I picture a bored, self-satisfied expression on his face.

Grinning to myself, I wait for the explosion and am not disappointed. Dripping with reeking sewage, Snape lowers his wand, managing to pull off a livid yet repulsed expression.

"Hmmm. Well that didn't work," I say cheerfully, feeling slightly better about resembling a walking pile of excrement now Snape's in the same position. It's honestly hard to feel upset about anything when that old git's covered in other people's poo.

"You knew that was going to happen," Snape says in a deadly quiet voice.

"Me?" I ask, feigning innocence. "I had _no _idea. Would I have let you performed that spell if I knew the consequences?"

He glares at me and wipes a glob of muck out of his eye, before storming from the room.

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"You smell funny," Ron tells me taking a step away from me and holding his nose. Honestly, that boy has all the subtlety of a ballet-dancing troll. We're in Herbology class, standing around a large venomous tentacula attempting to collect a small portion of venom from its fangs without dying of tentacula poisoning. Needless to say, after Professor Sprout told us about the whole "death-by-venom" thing, no one has yet to venture to close to their deadly plant.

"You _look_ funny," I retort then roll my eyes. What kind of lame-ass come back was that? Ok, so I'm tired. I stayed up half the night trying to fix a toilet with a near-broken toe. Personal hygiene wasn't exactly the main thing on my mind.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" Ron mumbled, poking the plant with the end of his wand, held at full arm's length away from his body.

"Will you please stop thinking about Hermione's knickers, Ron? You're about to have your arm bitten off. You shouldn't poke dangerous things."

I roll my eyes and silently tell Harry to shut up for being so sensible. _I'm_ supposed to be the sensible one and right now all I can do is huff and scowl at Ron for snickering at the word 'poke'. Yes, haha, very funny…poke can also mean sex, very witty.

"Ouch!" Ron exclaims, drawing his hand away from a set of sharp plant-fangs which had just lunged at him. After making sure it didn't get him I click my tongue in annoyance.

"Well, Harry did tell you not to poke it."

He snickers again and resumes his poking.

"I hope it eats you, Ronald," I say, grabbing my book bag as the bell rings and head for the greenhouse doors. As I'm leaving I hear Ron ask again what has gotten my knickers in a twist and Harry once again tell him to stop thinking about my knickers. Boys…who needs them?

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Well there ya go. Review and i might just update sooner. hehe, hope u enjoyed. xxx


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